


Tranquility

by el3anorrigby



Series: Illya and Napoleon Drabbles [6]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:04:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5725654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon tries to calm Illya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tranquility

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short one I had to get it out of the way. Since it's been in my draft for a while now.  
> Thanks for reading, as always. :)

Illya is pacing the floor of his hotel suite, looking like panic has taken over him, biting his nails, which he normally does not do, and occasionally attempting to grab something within his vicinity just so he could throw something at the wall when Napoleon pokes his head through the open door.

“What’s up, Peril? I saw the bellboy almost crying outside. What did you do to him?”

“He asked me too many questions when he brought our bags up. You know I do not like to be questioned by strangers.”

Napoleon chuckles. He knows his partner too well. After closing the door, he moves to the middle of the room, shakes his head a little at Illya’s edgy behaviour.

“How are you feeling?”

Illya tries to feign surprise, then growls in annoyance. Napoleon should not be asking him questions when he already knows what the answer would be. 

“Gaby is out there doing honeypot. You know I never approve of that.”

The Russian’s anxiety is like the steady accumulation of sickness on a long car journey to somewhere terrible, the occasional gear changes akin to surmounting sheer panic.

“It is dangerous to send Gaby. We should have found another way to do this,” Illya laments. “She is not trained for this type of situations.”

“You sure do worry a lot about our dear Gaby.”

Illya does not like the mocking tone in Napoleon’s voice. “I worry when it is necessary.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I am sure.”

Napoleon moves in a step closer towards his frantic partner. “Gaby will be fine.”

“How can you be so sure?” Illya asks.

“Well, she did fool us on our first mission together. Takes a good agent to do that. So that’s why I’m not too worried about Gaby. And you must learn to trust her as well.”

Illya only scoffs at Napoleon’s reasoning. “You are too trusting. Is no good.”

“Speaking as a former thief, I don’t think me being too trusting is a correct assessment of myself, but between the both of us, someone has to be the reasonable one regarding this matter, my friend. And obviously, that person isn’t you,” Napoleon points out and Illya glares at his partner who is beginning to find Illya’s unnecessary worry for Gaby amusing, bordering on adorable. 

“Are you saying I’m unreasonable?”

Napoleon inches closer and Illya quickly realises he is beginning to run out space to pace. Napoleon sees this as his opportunity, captures him in one quick motion by putting his hands on Illya’s shoulders, stills his frantic pinball movement around the room.

“Hmm, I wonder if you would worry the same way if it was me going on honeypot missions.”

Illya’s reaction to Napoleon’s words, however, is something the American did not expect.

“It is the same,” he answers but there is a hitch in his breathing, and he tries to avoid Napoleon's gaze, like the sheer idea of it troubles the Russian. Napoleon smiles at Illya’s hesitance.

“You should lie down, Peril. Have some sleep.”

“I do not want to sleep.”

Napoleon tries again. “Having some sleep will help you calm down.”

“I do not want to sleep, didn’t you hear me the first time? Or are you…”

Not bothering for Illya to complete his ramblings for he has had enough, Napoleon takes Illya by surprise by cupping the Russian’s face between his hands, looks at him a moment and then brings his head down slightly so he could plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Cowboy is just trying to calm me down,” Illya thinks, quietly.

Then Napoleon kisses his cheeks, kisses the tip of his nose. Illya is stunned.

“I can handle this, I can handle this,” Illya thinks again, repeats the thought to himself like a mantra. Napoleon’s actions are giving him the jitters, and he wants to pull away but realises he is somehow frozen in Napoleon’s loose grip.

Then Napoleon does the unthinkable. He kisses Illya on the mouth and does not take his lips away.

“What—what are you doing?” Illya blurts, asks him out loud. Finally, his brain and his mouth have decided to cooperate.

“Just trying to calm you down,” Napoleon answers.

But the way his heart rate has spiked up, Illya thinks Napoleon has failed spectacularly at his attempt. He wants to protest but Napoleon still has not moved his mouth from where he has parked it, right in front of Illya’s own. Illya cannot move anywhere without shoving Napoleon away. But he does not want to do that, not really. Not when Napoleon’s lips are warm and his hands, now on Illya’s back, are settling. Napoleon tries to kiss Illya again but this time, Illya pulls away, Napoleon missing his mouth by mere inches.

“Cowboy, whatever are you doing?”

“Like I said, I’m trying to calm you.”

“You are not doing a very good job. Have made it worse.”

“Let me try again then, so I can prove you wrong,” Napoleon challenges with that infuriating grin.

A heartbeat or two after that and it is Illya that is leaning in, pulls Napoleon closer against his body.

“You should really learn to know when to stop,” is what he says when Napoleon tries to say something clever and luckily, Illya discovers, kissing Napoleon without him talking does calm him, thinks he could get used to it, which is odd but totally useful. And, most importantly, although he would hate to admit it, feels incredibly wonderful.

Whether it will make him sleep from then on is his new problem altogether.


End file.
